Pick Your Marathon
by BuzzCat
Summary: The moment Donna walked into the console room, the Doctor knew they would not be going to the 2016 Olympics. aka that one time Donna had her period and the Doctor provided blankets and movies. Pointless, plotless fluff.


The moment Donna walked into the console room, the Doctor knew they were not going to the 2016 Olympics. Donna had on her flannel pajamas, fluffy slippers, a quilt wrapped around her shoulders, and her hair was a disaster. She had obviously only awoken when they landed and trudged out to give him a talking to about waking her up. Therefore, when all she said was, "No," the Doctor was confused. He swung around the console and walked in step with her as he whined,

"But Donnaaaaa..."

"Go if you want to. I'm not."

"But it's the 2016 Olympics! Don't you want to know who wins?"

"We have a time machine. They'll still be there tomorrow." she said without breaking stride, quilt trailing along the TARDIS floor behind her. The Doctor was about to open his mouth when Donna turned to him, "If you say one more word to convince me to go, I will smack you."

"Is everything alright?" asked the Doctor. This was a new level of grumpiness, even for Donna. Not that he'd ever tell her that. They arrived at Donna's room and she walked in. The TARDIS kept the lights dim as Donna climbed back into bed, quilt still wrapped around her. She curled up in a ball and scrunched her eyes shut. The Doctor sat on an unoccupied corner, "Donna?"

"It's that time of the month, alright?"

"What?" The Doctor was officially confused. What time? They were in a time machine. It was all times all at once. Donna sighed and shoved her head deep into a pillow, saying in a muffled voice,

"Aunt Flo is visiting."

"I sincerely doubt that. We're in the Time Vortex."

"I'm on my period, menstruating, whatever you Martians call it." said Donna, gritting her teeth. For a nine-hundred-year-old alien, he was surprisingly slow on the uptake. The Doctor's eyebrows flew to his hairline as he said slowly,

"Oh."

"Yeah. So, no Olympics for me. Not today, at least." said Donna, keeping her eyes closed and trying to go back to sleep. She felt weight move off the bed and heard the Doctor walk out the door. Served him right for asking too many questions. She curled up a little tighter and tried to ignore the dull pain in her abdomen.

Donna had officially given up on sleeping when the Doctor walked back in a few minutes later, heating pads in one hand and ice cream in the other. Donna moaned when she saw him walk in. The Doctor stopped, suddenly unsure,

"Is this not the right thing?" he asked, standing in the doorway. Donna reached out a hand,

"You bring that over here you wonderful space boy you." she said. The Doctor grinned and bounded forward, helping Donna get situated with her heating pads, ice cream, pillows, and TV remote. Once she was set up, the Doctor went back to standing in the doorway awkwardly,

"So I'll just leave you to it then?" he asked. Donna shrugged slightly,

"You don't have to go if you don't want to. Go get your own ice cream though." she said around a mouthful of Phish Food. The Doctor grinned and went dashing off, returning in pinstriped pajamas with a gallon of banana ice cream (of course) and a La-Z-Boy chair. Donna watched as he set himself up in the corner beside her bed, "Sure you don't want to just bring in a few bags of chips? Then we'd be set for a proper sleepover."

"I brought Disney and 'Pride and Prejudice'." he said, pulling a collection of DVDs from the crevice of his chair. Donna grinned,

"I knew I kept you for a reason." As the Doctor queued up 'The Lion King,' Donna realized this was the kindest reaction she'd ever gotten when she told a guy she was on her period. Aside from Wilf, who eventually learned to respond by purchasing chocolate and avoiding saying anything controversial. Still, for an alien streak of nothing with a cute bum, he did pretty well. Donna took another spoonful of ice cream and resigned herself to days of movies and junk food. Forget the Olympics, this was her kind of marathon.


End file.
